Two Years After Resolutions
by Bidwench
Summary: Just fluff.  Set two years after Resolutions, oneshot or not, by request.  Hope you guys enjoy it!
1. Chapter 1

Sunday mornings were not what they used to be. In the back of my head, I vaguely remembered long, lazy mornings that unfurled slowly, ripe with possibilities. And I could page through those possibilities with my eyes still closed from the comfort of warm sheets and a soft mattress.

Instead, this morning had started without me and I was still playing catch up. I woke up to the sound of Stephanie retching horribly in the bathroom, Sofi's tiny foot was pointed toward the headboard, her big toe perilously close to my left nostril, and my t-shirt was soaked where Joey's diaper had leaked in the night after he fell asleep on my chest. Joey's had a rough night with his molars coming in, and I tried in vain to disentangle myself from my daughter without waking him up. Once he started howling, the neighbors would start banging on the walls and the day would be shot to hell.

Sofi had managed to wrap both arms around one of my knees, and adrenaline kicked in as I checked to see if she was still breathing under all the covers. I clutched a soaking Joey to my chest with one arm as I quickly shoved the blankets to the floor with the other. Bright brown eyes peeked up at me from a riot of brown curls.

"Bee-boo, Daddy!" she crowed.

I collapsed against the pillows, relieved to find that my daughter was still among the living. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. Sofi insisted her bare toes had to be out in the open air, no matter how cold the night got, but the rest of her body would burrow deep in the blankets seeking warmth. Her favorite place on the planet happened to be sandwiched right between her parents. Upside down, and underneath a pile of suffocating blankets.

I sighed in relief and smiled down at my girl. "Peek a boo, Sofi."

Her eyes lit up, her curls bounced, and her giggle bounced off the walls of the room like prisms of light, and I laughed back. Sofi's laugh was like that. Once you heard it, you couldn't keep from laughing yourself. Or at least I couldn't. Steph staggered out of the bathroom, bleary eyed and pale.

"Better?" I asked hopefully.

She glowered at me from under her brows and a riot of curls that bore remarkable resemblance to her daughter's. "Better is relative," she collapsed back onto the bed, and I caught Sofi around the waist before she could bounce on her mother's belly and set the whole puking thing off again. I hadn't been fast enough one day last week, and it had been ugly. "I need sleep," she muttered.

I set Sofi on the floor, and ran my hand over Steph's curls. God, I loved her hair. "Why don't I take the kids and go grocery shopping while you sleep?" I suggested. Steph smiled sleepily at me and nodded. "Any requests?"

She frowned and her hand moved involuntarily to her stomach. "Right now, nothing." She swallowed convulsively. "In two hours? Whatever isn't nailed down." I chuckled and knew she wasn't exaggerating. This was the way morning sickness worked for Steph. Two hours of feeling like absolute hell, followed by a ravenous appetite and an astonishing array of food combinations.

"Okay," I said, and kissed her forehead before I extracted Joey and my wet self from the bed. Sofi was already dancing in front of the bedroom door and I told her to go to her room and change out of her pajamas. That probably meant she'd dance down the stairs naked in a minute, but it gave me a second to plop Joey in his crib and bring Steph a dry blanket. I gathered up Joey's mess and fed the top sheet and blanket into the washer, then stripped off my t-shirt and tossed it on top before I slammed the lid to the washer shut. I took the stairs two at a time because I'd learned from experience that if I left Sofi to her own devices for too long, she had a wicked imagination that outstripped both her mother and me. She might take a carefully concealed indelible marker to her brother or the hardwood floors, or upend Rex's cage into the crib. She'd have a perfectly logical explanation about making Joey pretty or making a rug for the floors, or Rex wanting to play with the baby, of course, but I knew firsthand that if I ever got behind that eight-ball, Sofi could make messes faster than I could clean them up, and we'd never get to the grocery store.

It was quiet as I paused in the kitchen to pour milk into Joey's bottle. "Sofi? You doing okay?"

"Huh huh," she answered brightly from the general direction of her room. So far, so good. If she was creating a catastrophe, at least it would be relatively contained. I peeked in on her before heading for Joey's nursery. She was happily pulling every pair of tights she owned out of the dresser. Okay. Tights were no big deal, and it was keeping her busy.

I'd actually gotten pretty fast at the diaper thing and had Joey stripped down in seconds. I debated putting on a new diaper, but realized the poor baby had been all but treading water. He was soaked to the eyeballs. "Okay, pal. Shower time." He grinned toothily up at me, and grabbed for his bottle. I perched him up on my shoulder, happily looking around at his world, contentedly latched onto his bottle. "Sofi?" I called. "You want a shower with me and Joey?" Dumb question. Sofi always wanted a shower. Her feet pattered and thumped over the hardwood as she did her happy little skippy dance down the hallway toward the bathroom, shedding her pajamas with abandon all along the hallway. Repositioning Joey a little higher, I stooped down and gathered up her clothes with the skill of a lot of practice and dumped them into the bathroom hamper.

I closed the door behind all of us, relieved that Sofi was at least corralled for the moment. I adjusted the taps for a shower significantly cooler than what I preferred and stripped down to my boxers. Sometimes, if I woke up really early, I could manage an actual hot shower naked, but most times the shower was just above lukewarm, and my boxers stayed on since I had Sofi in the tub with me. I snapped the suction cups into place on Joey's bath seat, placing him at the far end of the tub away from the shower spray. "Okay, my love. Do you see a spot for Sofi?"

She nodded, curls boucing. "How about over here?" I pointed to the top of the hamper. There was that giggle again as she shook her head "No." "No?" I asked, in mock shock. "You don't want to take a shower in the hamper?" More giggles. "Hmmm," I wondered aloud, following the rules of Sofi's bath game. "How about here?" as I pointed to the sink.

She moved from giggles to a full-out belly laugh. "No, Daddy!" she shrieked. "Well, what about over there?" The top of the toilet always made her laugh the hardest, and she didn't disappoint, laughing too hard to even say no. "No?" I asked again, laughing down at her giggly, happy face.

"No, Daddy! You silly!" she proclaimed.

"I'm silly?" I roared. "I'm SILLY?" and I lunged for her belly and its requisite 'giggle-spot' before she could move. Her laughter echoed off the walls of the tiny bathroom. "I think _you're_ Silly Sofi," I proclaimed. And with that, I scooped her up and deposited her right smack in the middle of the tub. She was still smiling and giggling when I climbed in, boxers and all, with my arms full of baby shampoo, Sofi's no-tears detangler, baby wash for Joey, Sofi's baby soap and her nylon poofie thing that made lots of bubbles, and the string bag full of bath toys. I made quick work of soaping up while Sofi doled out a plastic frog and a yellow duckie to her brother, then meticulously drowned some old Barbies she'd gotten from MaryLou's daughter.

"Hand UP!" Yelled Sofi, and I looked down to see Barbie holding some purple mermaid thing hostage. "You go JAIL!" hollered Barbie, and I absently wondered if Sofi was channeling Detective Dad or Bounty Hunter Mom, and decided it really didn't matter. At least she wasn't running down the stairs naked and soapy. I'd had to retrieve naked and soapy Sofi from the stairs before, and my mother and Grandma Bella had been watching from the livingroom. The memory still made me shudder. Sofi had been barely walking at the time, but I'd worn boxers in the shower ever since. The idea of Grandma Bella's Eye and my privates being in such close proximity still made me break out in a cold sweat when I thought about it.

I soaped and rinsed Joey, still happily chewing on his duckie's bill. Man, those choppers of his were really getting a workout. I hoped his molars would finish coming in soon. In the meantime, he chewed on anything he could move anywhere within chomping distance of his mouth. It hadn't been so bad before he actually had teeth, but he'd drawn blood on me once or twice in the past week, and he had a jaw like an alligator. Once he clamped down, you needed the fire department to get your finger back. I pitied the poor duck, but not enough to get my hands within striking distance.

Sofi's hair always reminded me of Medusa when I washed it--snaking curls wound their way around and through my fingers, and it was like walking in a minefield. Sofi had a riot of curls, and ran screaming from the room whenever Stephanie suggested a C-U-T, but she had to be the most tender headed little girl ever to draw breath. At the first sign of a snarl, her eyes teared up and she started to sniffle, looking so sad and mournful I always felt like a shit, even if I knew he was being as gentle as I could. I slathered on the detangler, and said a silent prayer it would really do a good job. I got the hand-held down to rinse her off, and Sofi, of course, began to dance. Stephanie had told her she could start ballet lessons next month, and Sofi had become obsessed with dancing. I dodged and pivoted, getting a workout of my own as I tried to keep the nozzle pointed at Sofi's head as she dipped and twirled. I finally suggested that leaping might not be such a hot idea since the tub was so crowded with three of us in it, and she gave me a look that said she was two and a half going on forty. Sofi was like that--a strange mix of enchanting fairy and old soul and you never knew which was going to come out next.

I sprayed enough Aussie detangler on Sofi's hair to coat the entire bathroom, but she didn't cry when I combed out her hair, so I figured that was money ahead. I'd just have to remember to buy Stephanie another bottle while I was at the store, that's all. So maybe you weren't supposed to use quite so much, but Sofi's hair was shiny and bright, and she was smiling and happy, so what was another $6.95, right? Maybe I could buy the stuff in bulk. I wasn't guzzling so much Maalox any more, and somebody had to keep CVS in business. Might as well be me buying hair products.

I sent Sofi off to her room to find her underpants and took Joey in to his changing table. Man, he was getting so big so fast. I remembered when he was lost on the top of this thing, and now his feet were hanging over the ends. Where had the time gone? When had Sofi stopped being a baby and turned into this little girl who held my heart in her hands? And my son--just a spot on a sonogram print day before yesterday it seemed like, and now here he was practically a kid in his own right. I was just thinking that I wished I could slow them both down so I could enjoy them longer when Joey really cut loose. Okay, I have to admit--there's something to be said for once the kids are potty trained. LOTS to be said, if you want to know the truth.

Baby wipes. We were going to need more baby wipes. I swear to God, Stephanie could clean the side of a barn with a single baby wipe, and it always took me half a box to clean up anything. Costco. We really should look into a membership at Costco. I bet they have baby wipes there by the millions. I could make room down by the washer and dryer. Then again, the way the washer and dryer were going twenty-four-seven these days, he might need a second set just to keep up with all the laundry.

"Are you done now?" I asked Joey. He waved his arms and legs enthusiastically. "Yeah?" More arm waving, plus a big grin. God, I loved his smile. "Well okay then--I think you've got the cleanest as---tush in the entire state of New Jersey." I was trying to watch my language--I really was. It was hard after so many years as a cop, and before that in the Navy. But last week, some guy had cut us off in traffic, and Sofi had called him an asshole before I could even finish stepping on the brakes. Stephanie shot me a look that would melt steel. Frankly, I don't think we'll ever know for sure if Sofi picked it up from me or from Steph, but either way we can't have her talking like that at ballet class or anything. So yeah. Joey's tush is nice and clean, and I can maybe get him stuffed into a clean outfit before Sofi manages to empty every drawer in her room if I hurry.

"Sofi? You need any help?" I peered around her door, Joey in one arm, his front pack in the other. I swallowed a grin, and Sofi scowled at me. She'd managed a pair of red tights, sort of. They were twisted around, and the heel part was on the top of her foot. Her pink leotard and tutu were a twisted mess--half on the floor, with one leg through the neck opening as she tried in vain to find a place to stuff her chubby little arms. "Uh, Sofi--I thought Mommy said that was for ballet class." If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. That kid had a lethal stare. "But practice is good, too," I allowed. Her glare ratcheted down into the "terminal illness" category, and I plunked Joey down on the floor and moved to disentangle the poor bedraggled tutu. I thought maybe we needed another one. One for wearing around and another one to wear to class. I wondered if the supermarket carried tutus. My list was getting pretty long. Eventually, I managed to get Sofi into the tutu, with her red clad legs poking out under the pink netting and her arms in the sleeves. I don't think the tag was really supposed to go in the front, but Sofi didn't seem to mind and I wasn't about to start over. She grabbed her black fringed cowboy boots, and I rolled my eyes. MaryLou had bought the damn things and Sofi loved them wildly and wore them whenever she thought she could get away with it. Okay, red tights and a pink tutu, it wasn't like she was going to be a fashion statement anyway. And if we hurried, maybe I could change her into something innocuous when we get home from the store, so that Stephanie wouldn't have a coronary. I helped her slide her feet into her boots, and she promptly started prancing and dancing around her room, tutu swishing and her arms waving wildly. "C'mon, Sofi. We have to go to the store."

Sofi was her mother's daughter. She loved shopping. All shopping. It didn't matter where. I took her with me to get tires last week, and she was thrilled. Something about the hunter gene or something, Sofi liked looking, picking and choosing, and she LOVED the sound of the cash register with all its electronic beeping and the ka-ching at the end where the change drawer rattled just sent her into paroxysms of ecstasy. I stuffed Joey into a snowsuit, and looked over at Sofi. Trenton was still in the grip of winter, and no way could she go out in just her tutu and tights. "Coat, Sofi," I instructed in what I hoped was my best no-nonsense dad-voice.

She didn't miss a beat, and went over to the rack by the back door and pulled out her brown bomber jacket. I sighed silently. One of my Navy buddies thought it would be funny to send Sofi a miniature brown leather bomber jacket, complete with fleece collar. Sofi had loved the thing, and wore it wherever she went, especially when paired her Jersey-girl boots from MaryLou. I contented myself with the thought that it was Sunday morning in the Burg. Surely most everybody would be in church still, and nobody would notice that Joe Morelli had taken his daughter out shopping dressed like a Halloween shop had exploded on her. Sofi solemnly pulled her fleece jester hat out of her coat pocket and stuffed it on top of her head. Sideways.

Perfect. I shook my head and herded her out to the SUV to install her in her carseat, then repeated the whole nineteen buckle system with Joey next to her. When I finally slammed the door and started the engine, I felt like I had really accomplished something. I also felt like I had run a marathon and needed a vacation, but there were groceries to be bought still.

Sofi started to sing, and Joey hummed along tunelessly, not wanting to be left out. "Sing, Daddy! Sing!" she demanded, and I promptly picked up "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," at the point where she left off. Nine repetitions later, we were at the supermarket. What can I say? It was Sunday morning and traffic was light. If we run out of something on a Friday night, it can take up to twenty-five Twinkles.

I buckled Joey into the front pack and hoisted him up before I ever undid the first buckle on Sofi's carseat. Joey is still fairly slow, but Sofi can run like the wind and frequently does. I gotta be prepared to do the scoop and grab before her foot ever hits the ground or I'm screwed, especially with Joey bouncing along in front of me like a baby kangaroo. "Walk or ride, Sofi?" I asked.

"Walk!" No big surprise there, but guaranteed halfway through the store she'd either get tired, or I would get tired of chasing her down and she'd wind up riding. I looked around for one of the carts that is shaped like a car, but they are at a premium and we were stuck with the regular kind. Too bad. The kids really like the car carts, but then again, they also manage to demolish the bottom row of every aisle at the store when they ride in them, and I suspect the manager may hide the things when he sees the Morelli kids coming. Some people have no sense of adventure.

I reminded Sofi to hold onto the cart and stay with me. If it lasts until we actually get inside the store, that will be a plus. Once inside, Sofi can't resist the call of all those _things_ to be explored. As soon as we hit the automatic door, Sofi is off and dancing. A couple of mean-faced old ladies give me the evil stink eye. I grew up with Grandma Bella, and they don't intimidate me. I smile in return and nod politely, and the one on the left gives a sniff and glances at Sofi's get up significantly before looking back at her friend. My smile disappeared, and the old biddy's buddy is looking more than a little scared.

Good. Not that I'm trying to pick on old ladies, but I won't have anything stifle Sofi. Sofi is magnificent. She is the most perfect, precious thing I have ever experienced, and I would walk through fire for her. No way are a couple of old prune faced women going to spoil her delight in the day.

"This Daddy! This!" Sofi chirped merrily. Great. Anti-freeze. And Sofi is going for the bottle on the bottom of the stack. I hustled to distract her, and if Butterscotch Krimpets aren't exactly health food, at least she's no longer focused on the anti-freeze. And besides, Stephanie will probably eat the Krimpets once she's feeling better.


	2. Chapter 2

Just about the time I managed to pry Sofi's hands off the Krimpet box, Joey spotted the bakery display case. As much as I'd always banked on nurture playing a bigger role than nature when it came to kids, Joey was unmistakably his mother's son. The kid couldn't even talk yet, but he had a nose like a bloodhound. He could sniff out butter cream and chocolate from half a mile. His starfish hands started clenching and unclenching in ecstasy while he cut loose with a tumble of unintelligible syllables, frantically gesturing toward the glass display case in the bakery section. Resigned, I semi-steered Sofi between the rows of bread and muffins with my knees while I maneuvered the shopping cart haphazardly and reassured Joey that yes, his "Took-tee" would be coming soon. I shook my head. My son had a five word vocabulary, and one of them was "took-tee", which he used far more frequently than the other four words he'd mastered: Momma, Daddy, Bob and Ho-fee.

"Hey, Joe," a sultry voice breathed from behind the cookie counter.

Great. Lorraine Brodnik. Just how stupid had I been the year I was seventeen? Where Lorraine was concerned, pretty stupid. I vaguely remembered a quick encounter in Stumpy Freelik's basement closet after way too much beer after a football game, but Lorraine had been gunning for me ever since.

"Hi, Lorraine," I responded without a lot of enthusiasm.

"So you're a weekend Dad these days?" she asked hopefully.

"Sofi, don't sit on the bread, sweetie," I said without much conviction. Secretly, I really hoped Sofi squashed every loaf in Lorraine Brodnik's display. "Just doing the grocery shopping so my pregnant wife can rest, Lorraine," I explained, and if I put a little extra emphasis on the pregnant part, at least I was rewarded by Lorraine's crestfallen expression.

All business, I continued, "Can I get a couple of chocolate chip cookies, half a dozen bagels, and some hoagie rolls?" I could pick up some meatballs at the deli and the makings for Steph's favorite marinara sauce, and surprise her with meatball subs. By the time I managed to shepherd the kids through the store and pack everything home, if I knew my Cupcake she'd be ready for something spicy.

Lorraine set a new land-speed record for slow when it came time to bag up my order. Glaciers have moved faster. Or maybe it just seemed that way because Joey was still yammering for his took-tie and Sofi had started to poke holes in the tops of all the bread wrappers, intensely interested in seeing how deep her pointy finger would go before the plastic finally gave way. "Sofi, no hands," I said without much hope. "O-tay, Daddy," she replied happily. I knew the no-hands thing would be promptly forgotten, though, as soon as something else interesting, something _touchable_came along.

"I can't imagine you married," cooed Lorraine as she made a huge production out of handing Joey a cookie. Joey didn't return her ubiquitous smile, but he quickly crammed as much of the cookie as he could manage into his gaping mouth, and started chewing furiously. I started to warn Lorraine about Joey's biting habit, but I was to late. She let out a sharp yelp as Joey worked his way through the crunch of the cookie and onto the tip of Lorraine's finger. In typical Joey style, he clamped down like a crocodile.

"He's teething," I explained apologetically as I helped her extract her finger, silently vowing to make sure Joey got a second cookie as a reward.

I nodded my thanks and took my bag from a now-sullen Lorraine just as I realized I'd lost Sofi. I looked around hurriedly, then relaxed as I heard her distinctive chirping from the next aisle.

"Sofi," I called as I shoved the reluctant cart around the corner, "You have to stay with Daddy."

"Poppa, Poppa!" Sofi called, and I frowned. Sofi was homed in on a man halfway down the aisle with gray hair and a worn brown corduroy jacket. His back was turned to us, but Sofi had started into a dead run.

"Sofi!" I called, but my daughter ignored me.

I picked up my pace as the old man turned and Sofi threw herself into his arms. "Poppa!" she exclaimed in triumph as he threw her high into the air and caught her close in a bear hug on the way back down. He cradled her gently, and the smile he turned on her upturned face was tender.

"How's my Sofi?" He asked quietly, and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled into his chest, content and happy.

"Pa!" crowed Joey, as he twisted eagerly in the front pack, holding his arms out toward the man in entreaty.

I was rooted to the floor, totally paralyzed as he turned away from Sofi and raised his eyes to meet mine.

Eyes like Sofi's.

Eyes like mine.

"Hello, son," he said.

I was ready to wake up now. Really. Anytime would be okay. God, that peanutbutter and olive monstrosity I'd shared with Stephanie last night against my better judgment had really turned out to be a mistake. I shook my head. I knew better, but I'd do just about anything for Stephanie, up to and including consuming the leftover half of one of those truly repulsive sandwiches she loved so much. I was sure paying for it now, though. In spades.

I stared at my father's arms holding my daughter, concentrating all my attention on her feet. Those perfect, skipping, dancing feet of my own personal ballerina. I had no interest in playing out some subconscious parody of Hamlet, so I avoided looking directly at him, hoping he would just disappear for another fifteen years. Or forever. "Come on, Sofi," I thought to myself. "One good kick in the ribs, and you can rescue your Daddy, here." I wrapped my arms around Joey, his wriggling weight a welcome comfort on my chest as I waited for Sofi to kick me back to consciousness. "Joey must still be sleeping on my chest," I reasoned, as I waited, and waited, and waited.

"I know this must be a shock," the dream visage of my father said. Funny, his voice was much softer and kinder than I remembered. I'd been on the receiving end of his temper more than a little, and his voice had usually been raised to an ear-splitting level, and adorned with enough profanity to bring a blush to even an ex-sailor like me.

"You're dead," I said flatly, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

He hung is head and slowly set Sofi down on the floor, where she started an intricate dance around his legs, twirling and skipping along to the beat of some music only she could hear. "That's what I wanted you to think," he answered.

"I'm dreaming, and you're dead," I repeated. "Sofi, come to Daddy."

Sofi danced over and took my outstretched hand, skipping along happily as I led her back around the corner of the grocery aisle. "I'm ready to wake up now," I said. I thought if maybe I verbalized it within the dream, it might cut through the psychological binds ensnaring me in my worst nightmare. The old man was dead and buried. I'd stood as pall bearer at his funeral, and the last thing I needed was some insane Freudian/Jungian whatever playing around in my brain. I'd resolved any issues I'd had with my father by living a different life than him, and I wanted his doppelganger buried right alongside his cold, rotting corpse, thank you very much.

"Bye, Poppa," Sofi called, waving cheerfully.

"Bye, Sofi. I'll see you later." He looked sad. And old.

Good.

"The hell you will," I growled.

"I lub you, Poppa!" I stared down at my daughter in disbelief.

"I love you too, Sofi-girl," the old man said. He took two steps and closed the distance between us as I drew back in reflex. Old habits die hard. But Sofi just threw her arms around his neck and gave him a sloppy kiss right next to his left ear. He kissed her cheek, then leaned over quickly and kissed the back of Joey's head, catching his little hand and giving it a quick squeeze before he turned and walked away.

I clutched Sofi's hand in a death grip, and purposefully led her back to the safety of the car. I left the cart sitting smack in the middle of the aisle, but I didn't care. Somehow, I made the drive to the Plum house, because the next thing I remembered was hauling Sofi and Joey up the front steps. Ellen and Grandma Mazur were still at mass, but I garbled out some lame excuse to Frank and left the kids with him.

I needed to be home. Now that the kids were safely out of the car, I ignored all the traffic laws as I traversed the familiar roads between the Plum house and the old row house that had become my sanctuary. If I could just get back inside the haven that I shared with Stephanie, nothing bad could touch me. I slewed around the corner, nearly clipping a stop sign. The memories that I held at bay by force of sheer will couldn't touch me in that house. I had no memories of the old man in the Slater Street house, just memories of Stephanie and the babies—memories I could wrap around myself to keep the old man at bay. My chest was heaving like a bellows when I finally screeched to a halt in the drive. I catapulted from the car and let myself in the back door, slamming it shut behind me. I twisted both locks for good measure, and let the warm familiarity of the kitchen surround me. Coffeemaker half full, a few dishes and Joey's morning bottle in the sink, tell-tale jar of peanutbutter still sitting on the counter from last night, the usual mess of spilled crunchies from Bob's food dish. Bob could never manage keeping his food in his bowl even before Joey got big enough to crawl around and fish the crunchies out of the dish, happily strewing them from the kitchen to the hallway on a constant basis. I reached for the broom on reflex and swept the crunchies back into the bowl on autopilot. I carefully hung the broom back up on its hanger and threw my coat across Sofi's booster seat before I carefully picked my way through the scattered toys to the sofa.

I didn't so much sit there as collapse, my legs no longer able to bear the weight of my memories.


End file.
